


Zer0's Never-Truly Alone Time

by Bloodysyren



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cumshots, Down and Dirty, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:26:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22162513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodysyren/pseuds/Bloodysyren
Summary: Zer0 gets tangled up with a pair of Crimson Raider twins who show him a good time.
Relationships: Zer0 (Borderlands)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	Zer0's Never-Truly Alone Time

My brain won’t stop running. Gambling is a useless pastime, no one is interesting enough to talk to. I’m too exhausted to run out on missions. I just want to go to sleep. There are people everywhere, muttering nonsense to anyone who’ll listen. No privacy. I hole up on the balcony of the Raider’s HQ. At least here there’s no one to bother me. The seasoned Vault Hunters have all gone out to Moxi’s to drink and reminisce. I’m completely alone. I’ve taken off my sword, my guns. The weightlessness seems foreign, almost frightening. My defences are down for the first time in a long time.

  
I hear footsteps on the staircase two rooms over. I listen to the noise like capturing a butterfly, delicately. I turn my head slowly towards the door. There are two Crimson Raiders. They’re all over this small city, swarming like bees in a hive; scared to leave, compelled to stay. It’s hard to tell them all apart. But not these two. They’re always together, same height, same build. I met them once. Brothers, twins. Their mother was killed by bandits when they were very young. They decided to walk in their father’s footsteps: joined the Resistance.

  
They pause in the doorway leading to my sequestered hiding place, each propped up against the doorjamb. They’ve removed their helmets, their heavy armour. Standing there in military cargo pants and plain sand-coloured undershirts. I can smell the sweat from their bodies. I rest my head against the wall of the balcony, glad no one can see me through the solid wall. I need this privacy. This secrecy. The twins know this desire for solitude as well as I. They step out onto the balcony, crouching down near me, sliding to the ground casually. One closes the door, punching in the code to lock it from the outside.

  
“We were looking for you.”

  
“Didn’t see you with everyone else down at the bar.”

  
“Seems like they’ll be there all day, telling stories.”

  
“Getting roaring drunk.” One chuckles, looking at my helmet where he thinks my eyes would be. They scoot closer to me, invading my personal space. I don’t mind.

  
“We’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.” One puts his hands on my chest as the other brother’s fingers toy with the armor covering my thigh, “About what you look like under there….” Their hands undo clasps and zippers, sliding off my boots, my bodysuit: my last vestige of protection against the outside world. And I let them. They strip off their dingy worn clothing, spreading it beneath the chilly concrete that is serving as my hidden bower among the craggy metallic face of this worn-out city.

  
Their calloused fingers curl beneath my helmet, lifting it off of my face, placing it reverently on top of my folded bodysuit, next to my boots. I can see all of my clothing laying there, far away like the outfit last worn by a man deceased. I am suddenly self-conscious: of my body, of my face. My inflicted deformities standing out stark and exposed under the blazing light of the afternoon sun. But they don’t mind. They are curious, deliciously aroused. I‘m eased back, falling feather-light, reclining between them, one and the same. Their fingers trace my scars, threading across my pale skin bone-white and barely visible. The faces that float through my vision are angelically rigid, stone-hard cruelty melting into raw need.

  
Their tanned bodies are animalistic and hard. Strong muscles beneath matching limbs. Their toned arms cradle me, trapping me between them as two sets of sky-blue eyes stare me down hungrily. I rest my head against a smooth muscled thigh, turning my head to tease the silken length so tantalizingly close to my mouth. My fingers slowly reach up to stroke the last few inches my lips are unable to reach and I am embarrassingly aware of the scar on the outside of my hand. It stands out like a terrible burn, my missing finger throbs for a moment. I see that halo of short dark hair blurring in my vision as he tilts his head back in pleasure.

  
My back arches as the mirror of the man under my squeezing fingers leans his head down to suck between my legs. My other mutilated hand tangles in his hair as the rhythmic suction increases. I forget the harsh stabbing embarrassment of my body and enjoy their attention. The man above me squeezes his fingers against my chest, making me moan against his cock. I’ve needed this. My brain hasn’t stopped running until now. Now it is all pleasure. Delicious knee-weakening pleasure. Between these two battle-roughened men, the need for release, for fulfillment, is equal to the satisfaction of taking a life.

  
I feel my cock enveloped in that hot damp suction, riling up my brain, twisting my gut with the carnality of lust. These two brothers are feeding off of my pleasure like starving beasts, ravaging my body. I glance down between my legs and I can see the desperate pumping of the other’s fist, pleasuring himself as he drives me closer to the edge. And as I glance up towards the ceiling again, I can feel the rumbling purr of a moan slipping from the other brother’s damp lips. It pulses through his cock, twitching greedily as I suck his hot flesh against my tongue, straining my neck to bring him further down my throat.

  
He is thrusting into my mouth now, holding the back of my head, forcing himself between my lips. Fucking my throat. And I love it. I need this. This desperate shove towards the dark ghastly abyss of insanity. The indelicate twist of Lust’s thorn in my side. It’s making me wild with anticipation. I hear harsh groans coming from the man before me, kneeling between my legs. His hips snapping forward, fucking his fist, pumping like a piston, squeezing deliciously around his cock. It’s making my mouth water at how his desperate unrestrained whimpers are buzzing deliciously against my cock. The vibration of his mouth against me is driving me batshit insane. I crave release. Suddenly, I realize they are completely in sync: one with my cock down his throat, the other greedily fucking my mouth, my throat tightening around him. I feel dizzy with pleasure.

  
Their release is so close I can taste it on my tongue, feel myself leaking prejack onto that velvet tongue lashing around me like a slippery vice. I can feel their bodies shudder around me, surrounding me, filling the poisonous void inside of me. My body jerks up suddenly and I hear the sound of my cock being released from the confining wetness of the pleaser’s mouth. I tear my lips away from the one being pleasured by me and I gasp for air, letting out a bestial moan, watching as I shoot hard against my stomach, hands-free. My brain doesn’t have time to process the split-second chain of events as the brothers both orgasm onto my heaving sweat-slick body, groaning like demons. I watch in awe as the one above me shoots his load against my chest, that sticky mess pooling in the deep valley of my chest. The other, kneeling before me, moans like a wild animal and empties himself completely into the crevices of my hips, hunching over uncontrollably in his pleasure.

  
I’m panting raggedly, closing my eyes against the melting afternoon sunlight. My body feels heavy, satiated. I don’t even attempt to get up, wanting to just drift into sleep’s waiting embrace. The twins stand shakily and unlock the door, stumbling sneakily into the other room to retrieve wet cloths. They kneel at my side and reverently clean up the sticky remains of the pleasure they reached with the aid of my body. Pushing my suit, helmet, and boots towards me we dress quickly, in silence. They’re covered once again in their sandy-coloured clothing, looking like every other Raider out on the streets of Sanctuary. But I know different.


End file.
